The Hunt
by WhimsicalWriter4
Summary: S4E04: Why was Bellamy, someone valuable enough to be on the list, out hunting on Azgeda land? And why, with the truce and the seal from King Roan, would anyone take Bellamy and Stevens prisoner? Something to try to fill the plot holes from this storyline in E04.
1. Chapter 1

The sun glinted off the metal Ark, and Bellamy squinted against it. The early morning sun had a tendency to do that. Not that he minded. Bellamy had nothing against the early morning sun, he rather liked it in fact. It made everything glisten as though it was new and hadn't been touched.

It reminded him of the sunbeams and Octavia's glowing butterflies back at the Dropship.

It hadn't been a better time, just a simpler one. Now, they had to figure out how to feed hundreds of people _and_ keep them alive _and_ keep peace—and remain sane.

Easier said than done.

Part of his method was mornings like this. Ones where he could think about only the dew on the grass and whether it would soak through his boots. Everyone was still asleep, so it wasn't hard to pretend they didn't need him, pretend for once he could take a breath of air without feeling guilty.

Footsteps on the gravel behind him. Clarke. They hadn't been through so much together for nothing. He knew her footsteps, her breathing, that she'd come up on his left and say,

"Bellamy."

"Clarke." He stopped walking and turned to look at her. Her eyelids were swollen, probably from crying. Making that list had been hard on her. Hell he wasn't sure _he_ could do it if he'd been asked. "Sleep well?"

All he got was a pained smile.

He knew she hadn't. She'd dozed off on the couch in the office. It was the same couch he'd slept on while she made the List. Slept. While she was making some of the hardest decisions of her life, he'd slept. No more "together" as the lever came down, just a pen on paper, all alone.

He'd written her name, she'd cried, they'd talked well into the night because Clarke had clearly not been ready to sleep yet.

When she had finally dozed off, Bellamy had gently tugged her legs so she stretched out on the couch. She'd muttered something about radiation and rolled onto her side, pulling her arms to her chest like a little kid. With her blonde hair and relaxed but splotchy-from-crying face, he'd been struck by reality: they were young. Not kids anymore, but young.

Bellamy hadn't known where to find an extra, so he'd left for a moment to get the single chancellor-issued blanket from his quarters. He'd tucked it around her before sitting in the chair at the desk and eventually dozing off himself. He couldn't leave her alone after what she'd had to do.

Bellamy had woken before her with a crick in his neck and decided to take in the morning. Actually, he had other plans.

"Bellamy, are you still with me?"

His eyes focused back on her. "Yes, sorry. How are you?"

"Awful. You?"

"'Bout the same."

"Still have hope?"

He smirked. "Are we still breathing, Princess?"

"Why are you up?"

"Stuff to do," he responded vaguely. He knew she'd argue with him, even though they both knew he was right. "You?"

"Couldn't sleep." Her eyes flickered from his head to his feet, and he knew she'd noticed. "Where are you going, Bellamy?"

"Hunting. We need food."

"Send someone else."

It sounded like a request, even if it came out worded as an order.

"Clarke," he drawled. "You know I'm the best hunter. I could go out for the day and come back with more than the others will in a week."

She raised an eyebrow and cocked a hip, resting her hand on it. Clarke sass, a posture he'd recognize anywhere.

"Yeah, you're right, two weeks," he corrected with a grin.

Clarke rolled her eyes. "Three days," she countered.

"Three days," he conceded. "Either way, it needs to happen."

Clarke sighed. "I know. Take someone with you."

Was she worried about him? Since when? Bellamy nodded. "I'll need help carrying all the game," he agreed. "I might be strong, but I can't haul nearly as much as I can catch."

She snorted. "Why do you only make comments like that in the morning?"

"Like what?"

"Cocky, humorous," she struggled to explain. "Kind of how you were when we first landed, but not as crass."

Wow. Real poet there. "Honestly?" He forced himself to look at those blue eyes, the dullness of which made his chest tighten in a way he couldn't explain. "In the morning, with no one around and the birds singing and the sun shining, I can forget that they need me.

"Afoot and lighthearted, I take to the open road,

Healthy, free, the world before me, the long brown path before me, leading

Wherever I choose."

Bellamy recited.

"Still here I carry my old delicious burdens;

I carry them, men and women—I carry them with me wherever I go;

I swear it is impossible for me to get rid of them;

I am fill'd with them, and I will fill them in return,"

They finished together.

" _Song of the Open Road_ by Walt Whitman," Clarke remarked, sounding surprised.

It was slightly hurtful. He'd been a pretty good student back on the Ark, before, well, everything. "Mornings like this make it feel less impossible," Bellamy struggled to explain.

"So do you," he barely heard her whisper. "Who are you bringing hunting?" she asked more loudly before he could respond in kind to her earlier confession.

"Whatever hunter I can find awake this early," he teased. He hadn't meant to take away her smile with the poem, he'd just wanted to tell her the truth. After everything, she deserved at least that.

"Don't go into Azgeda land," Clarke recommended. "Even with the truce, I'm not sure I'd trust them."

"I agree."

"And come back before nightfall, regardless of the hunting. After Luna and the others, I'm not so sure ALIE's calculation of six months is accurate."

"Yes, Princess," Bellamy said obediently.

She sighed. "I'm sorry. I just, I don't understand all of this, and people running off in a million different directions scares me."

"I know," he said simply. "I'll be back. Make sure to keep everyone in line here at camp and, hey Stevens! Clarke, try to smile at least once today. It's good for you, or so my mom always said."

"I already did."

"Again, Princess."

"When you get back, Rebel King."

Bellamy laughed at the nickname, waved, and jogged to meet Stevens. The guy was a bit inexperienced and, being from the Ark, hadn't gone through what the Hundred had, but Bellamy liked his willing and quiet approach to just about any job thrown at him. A good companion for a trip like this for sure.

"Morning, Blake," Stevens greeted him.

"Stevens, we need to go hunting."

"When?"

"Now."

"Ok, let me go get a gun, and I'll meet you at the front gate."

Bellamy had been right. A good companion.


	2. Chapter 2

"So, where did you and Clarke take the rover yesterday?"

Or not. Maybe Bellamy should've looked for someone a little less nosy. But quieter than Stevens was usually hard to find. It was a good, comfortable kind of quiet, or at least it usually was. "Jaha had something to show us," Bellamy replied vaguely.

"And?"

"And it didn't pan out. Sorry, Stevens, but I'm not supposed to talk about it."

"Sure man, no problem," Stevens said quickly. "Hey, uh, are we supposed to be here? Isn't this grounder hunting land?"

"Azgeda," Bellamy confirmed. "We're under truce, so it should be fine. Plus Clarke only gave us a day, and this is the best way to bring in as much as possible."

"Clarke might need to give you more than a day," a woman said from the foliage.

Bellamy spun to a sword inches from his face.

"Oh, that's not good," Stevens breathed.

Grounders, Azgeda, stepped out around them.

"Echo, we're at peace with Azgeda," Bellamy reminded her.

"Drop the guns," Echo ordered.

"Do it," Bellamy recommended. He and Stevens set their guns at their feet. Immediately, the warriors took the guns. "I have the seal from the king," Bellamy continued calmly. Slowly, he reached for the inside pocket of his guardsman jacket.

"The seal was to go to your fallen ship, which you destroyed," Echo snarled. "It was not to hunt here."

"There was never any discussion on that," Bellamy objected. "You hunt on our land, and we've never complained.

"We've never blown up your homes."

No, Bellamy wanted to say. You just hunted our Princess to kill her, and your king stabbed me in the leg. That had been a hell of a walk back to the rover, a walk Bellamy wasn't about to forget any time soon for multiple reasons. He also wouldn't forget Abby cleaning and stitching up his leg, and while he hated to admit it, there were quite a few people in medical who wouldn't forget that day either.

"It wasn't your home," Bellamy said instead. "It was our ship. The explosion was an accident."

But Echo didn't look convinced, and Bellamy could feel Stevens shaking beside him. Of course he had to be with Stevens. The guy was cool, but didn't have the same experiences with grounders that many of the Hundred did. This was going to be a tough one to get out of.

"Look, if you want us to leave we will," Bellamy tried again. "We haven't shot any game, and we can go somewhere else."

"No, you're coming back to Polis with us," Echo announced.

"Ok, great. Kane will vouch for us."

Echo sneered at him. "Blowing up ships? Sending Bellamy Blake to hunt on Azgeda land? We have some catching up to do."

Bellamy sighed. "Fine, but I won't tell you anything you don't already know."

Echo ignored him, instead giving an order that sounded a lot like "tie them up" to Bellamy. A moment later, when his wrists were rudely jerked behind his back, he discovered he'd been right.

At least his ability to understand Grounder was getting better.


	3. Chapter 3

Bellamy and Stevens found themselves in metal shackles in a dungeon in Polis, not before the king, explaining the situation with Kane's assistance.

"We didn't do anything wrong," Bellamy assured Stevens. "Kane will explain. Echo just tends to overreact sometimes."

"She threw us in a dungeon. Isn't that more than a little overreaction?"

"Look, you're a soldier," Bellamy interrupted, keeping his voice low. "They won't expect you to know anything. Whatever happens, you stick to that."

"What?"

The footsteps Bellamy had heard stopped at the door to their cell. Echo stood there, flanked by two giant Azgeda men. Why were grounder men so _big_?

"Take Bellamy. He is close to their leader," Echo directed.

Bellamy managed a reassuring nod to Stevens before he was shoved out of the cell and around the corner. Bellamy was thrust to his knees in a room whose floor was covered in blood. No way this ended well.

"Echo, we have a truce," Bellamy tried to explain again. "Ask Kane. Ask Roan, your king."

"Your actions do not make sense given the truce," she responded, face and voice void of any emotion. "Explain."

"I did!"

A blow to his temple with the hilt of her sword sent him to the ground.

"Explain!"

"I can't!"

"Get him up," Echo ordered.

One of the men grabbed Bellamy by the arms and hauled him to his feet. He hung there, arms pinned painfully behind his back, wrists wrenched into an uncomfortable position.

"Speak," Echo snarled.

"I did," Bellamy wheezed, the awkward position making it difficult to breathe. "There's…no more. I have the seal."

Echo reached into his pocket and pulled it out. In a sudden surge of anger, she swung it at him.

Bellamy tried to duck, but it still caught him in the face. He grunted and could already feel blood trickling down his face. "What do you want?" he asked, spitting out blood and a tooth.

"Why were you hunting?"

"We need food. Eating…some'ing we do…when we're hungry."

Echo sighed. "Teach him. I will return." She left the room.

"Echo! Talk to Roan. He can ex—" Bellamy's shout was cut off by a rather solid fist to the stomach. He doubled over with a groan.

By the time Echo returned, Bellamy hung limping, gasping for air and well aware of how a punching bag felt. He moaned.

"Have you decided to speak?"

"Roan?" he countered weakly. If she would just speak to Roan, all of this could be explained. Or at least stopped. Surely Roan didn't want to test the truce with Clarke by beating Bellamy. If there was one thing Roan and the other grounders understood, it was not to mess with the people close to Clarke. Even Kane could get them out of this. Echo just had to actually communicate with people.

"Water," Echo said, pointing to a large tub in the corner.

"Wait, what? Echo, it's the truth," Bellamy insisted. "Just talk to someone. They can explain."

"You are weak. You have nothing to say to me, yet you speak anyway. Is it to avoid the pain? Are you not the second to the great Wanheda, the Commander of Death? She has chosen poorly."

Bellamy wanted to argue, because he _wasn't_ Clarke's second, and wasn't he a sort of Commander of Death too, since he'd pulled the lever with her? But it wasn't a title he nor Clarke wanted, as they'd talked about this morning.

Suddenly, his head was under water, and he couldn't breathe. Bellamy struggled, but he knew it was hopeless. The men were twice as big as he was, and he was already weak from the beating they'd given when Echo had left, not to mention his head still pounded from her sword, and the world spun a little when he moved too quickly.

When he was at least pulled up, he gasped desperately, lungs on fire.

"Tell me what is happening."

Bellamy glared and spat on her shoe. He had nothing more to say. Speaking was weakness.

"Again."

It was a vicious cycle. Echo would have him dunked, he'd refuse to respond to her questions and taunts, and his head would go under again.

The last thing he remembered was Clarke sleeping on the couch, Octavia's glowing butterflies dancing all around the Princess's still figure. Then—darkness.


	4. Chapter 4

Bellamy woke, gagging and vomiting blood and water, to Stevens' frantic stuttering. "We-we're rebuilding it," Stevens was saying. "We're all going to hide inside during PrimeFire. As a backup plan!"

Bellamy let his head drop back into the puddle and listened as, in between little whimpers, Stevens betrayed his people and made all of Bellamy's suffering completely worthless.

"Bring them to the King."


End file.
